


The Bestiary

by robinwritesallthethings



Series: Henry Cavill Characters [11]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Biting, Dream Sex, Drinking, F/M, Fantasy, Geralt Fights a Duel for Robin's Honor, Geralt Loves Curves, Geralt and Robin Say No to Hypnosis, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt's Bulging Muscles, Geralt's Pretty When He Comes, Geraltisms, Gross Monster Explosions, Hair Pulling, I Counted the Kikimora’s Height in Geralts Since He Was the Only Known Measurement I Had, I Made Up Some Shit About Kikimoras Deal With It, I Tried to Count the Kikimora’s Legs and Somehow Came Up with a Different Number Each Time, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jaskier Says Cunt, Kidnapped Jaskier | Dandelion, Knights Are Dicks, Language, Marking, Multiple Orgasms, Necromancy, Possessive Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Rescue Mission, Robin Saves Geralt, Romance, Rough Sex, Scars, Self-Insert, Smut, So Much Hilariously Inappropriate Jaskier, Spanking, Super High Geralt, Sweaty Geralt, Teasing, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Unrequited Love But Not Really Since They Both Think That, Vaginal Sex, Vampires, Villain Yennefer, Visions, Yes Geralt Has a Huge Dick But Let’s Be Honest We Knew That Already
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 09:41:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26849842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robinwritesallthethings/pseuds/robinwritesallthethings
Summary: The Bestiarypresents the adventures of Geralt, Robin, and Jaskier that don’t fit chronologically into my longer story,The White Werewolf. They can also be read as unconnected one-shots if you prefer.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Original Female Character(s), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Robin Ballard (robinwritesallthethings), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Robin Pankratz (robinwritesallthethings)
Series: Henry Cavill Characters [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1925797
Comments: 2
Kudos: 50





	1. Monster Between the Sheets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt teaches Robin how to hunt a kikimora.

Geralt leaned over and stoked the fire. He was naked, his body slick with sweat, his hair stuck to his cheeks. The silver strands glowed in the dim light.

He turned, all of his powerful muscles flexing as he walked back over to the bed. Robin was reclining on top of the furs, equally sweaty, her skin glistening.

There was a blissful look on her face. Her eyes flickered open as Geralt joined her once again.

She traced the scar on his chest as he got closer. “Tell me how you kill a kikimora,” she requested.

“Hmm,” Geralt murmured, grabbing her hand and kissing her knuckles. “They’re formidable creatures. I honestly hope you never have to see one.”

“Just in case,” she suggested, smiling at him. “I’m very curious about something that can scar my werewolf witcher.”

Her cheeks flushed as she realized what she’d said. They weren’t together. Not like that. She didn’t think. It was becoming increasingly hard to tell, but she still went to great lengths not to bring it up.

Geralt had heard her, of course. He didn’t mention it. He didn’t want to make her self-conscious.

Instead, he chuckled. “Well,” he began, “they resemble giant spiders, except they have a distorted mammalian skeleton. Obvious pubic bone, an inverted rib cage for a back, humanoid skull. Covered in coarse, dark hair. Three legs on either side, and two right underneath their head, acting more like arms. All tipped with formidable spikes.”

“Did that scar come from a spike?” she wondered.

He nodded. “The spikes are quite powerful, but they’re not what you have to worry about. You see,” he explained, “the kikimora will try to pin you…”

He quickly rolled on top of her, grabbing her wrists and yanking them apart, pressing them into the bed. She was held in place by his considerable bulk, yet she only giggled.

A sound he would freely pay to hear over and over again.

His yellow eyes darkened to a deep gold as he felt her pliant body beneath him, his cock stirring at the thought of being inside her yet again tonight. But he had to finish his lecture first.

“And then what?” she asked, gazing up at him. “It slashes your throat?”

He shook his head. “Hardly. The kikimora prefers its prey alive. The pinning is so it can poison you with its bite.”

“Its bite?” she echoed.

“Mmm,” he hummed. “A kikimora’s bite will paralyze you. You’ll be helpless against it as it starts to feed.”

Her eyes widened a little. “I see,” she whispered. “Does the poison work against you?”

“It would eventually. It might take more than one bite, but it’s hard to say precisely. I have potions that can counter it as well. You see, a witcher’s advantage is that a kikimora wants its prey completely subdued before the bite, because its head is the most vulnerable part of its body. I always aim for it.”

“And why is it the most vulnerable?”

“Well, despite its large size - most are over six feet tall when extended to their full height, and about roughly twice that in length, somewhere in between for width - a kikimora’s physiology is remarkably delicate. It’s just as easy to slice one of their limbs off as it is a human one, and a blow through the skull will kill it. And, since it has flat teeth, though they often break and become jagged, and no distended snout to speak of, it has to be very close to deliver its bite.”

“Does it now?”

He nodded, leaning down until their noses were touching, grinning at her.

“And where would it bite?” she inquired slyly.

“Preferably near an easily accessible artery so the poison would travel through your body quickly. The best choices would be…”

He bent his head and found her carotid artery, biting on it gently. She gasped and tried to squirm, but could barely move since he was still on top of her.

She also tipped her head back, exposing more of her neck to him. “Bad move if you’re pinned by a kikimora, Robin,” he informed her darkly, biting her again, a little harder this time.

“It might also try…” Geralt trailed off, moving down to her collarbone and her subclavian artery.

He bit down, feeling his teeth leave marks on her soft, pale skin. He made his way across from shoulder to shoulder, biting harder each time. She started panting and he swallowed as he got harder.

“Those are the two best choices, especially if its prey is wearing armor. But there is one more juicy spot that happens to be my personal favorite…”

He slid down, squeezing her hips briefly, then spreading her thick thighs wide. He stuck his face between them and shut them again, biting enthusiastically at the throbbing vein on first one side, then the other.

He gazed up at her from between her legs. “That’s where I’d bite you if I were a kikimora,” he teased.

“And where would you bite me if you were simply Geralt of Rivia?” she countered breathlessly.

He pushed up on his arms, his muscles bulging, then settled his face between her breasts, reaching up to squeeze them.

“Right here,” he decided, biting down on one of her plump, pink nipples, rolling it between his teeth before pulling on it and letting it go.

He repeated the action on the other as she dug her fingers into his hair and wrapped her legs around his waist.

He kissed his way up her chest, biting the hollow of her throat as he slowly slid inside of her. She cried out and he groaned long and low as he started to move.

She never failed to please him, nor he her. It was now hard for him to even fathom seeking the attention of someone who didn’t know his body like she did.

She tugged his head back up and their lips met, their tongues and teeth vying for dominance as he pounded into her roughly in a steady rhythm.

When she came undone around him, he let himself go, pushing deep inside of her and growling happily. She went limp beneath him and he kissed her cheek, nuzzling her affectionately.

“Are you going to retain any of that lesson?” he chastised her skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

“If I see a kikimora, I run away and get Geralt of Rivia,” she said matter-of-factly.

He laughed heartily. “That’s good enough for me.”

She shrugged. “You’re a monster slayer and a monster in bed.”

“You did not just say that,” he admonished her.

“I did. Punish me if you don’t like it,” she challenged him.

“Maybe I will.”

Then they were kissing again, tangling around each other in a warm, sensual dance that was far more satisfying than killing any monster.


	2. All Night Long

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone tries to poison Geralt, but they accidentally give him a massive dose of aphrodisiacs instead.

Robin lurched into the room, Geralt half-hanging off of her. “Jas!” she yelled. “Jas, help!”

“Whoa, there, big guy!” Jaskier grabbed Geralt’s other side and helped her prop him up. “My goodness. I didn’t even know he could get this drunk. So much for that witcher constitution of his,” he remarked.

“He’s not drunk, Jas,” she explained worriedly. “Somebody did something to him, but I don’t know what.”

Jaskier maneuvered all of them over to the bed and they dropped Geralt on it. He flopped onto his back and grunted.

“Can you narrow it down, dear sister?” Jaskier wondered. “So we can help him?”

“It was in this bottle. I think it was poison, Jas.”

She was on the verge of hysteria. Tears started to run down her cheeks as she sank to her knees beside the bed. Geralt was one of the only people she had ever been close to, and the only lover she’d ever had. She couldn’t lose him. She’d do anything she had to to make sure he survived.

Jaskier carefully sniffed the glass vial she’d handed over. “Oh,” he said thoughtfully. “Oh,” he repeated, his voice a little deeper.

He glanced at Geralt, his eyes flicking down to the witcher’s pants.

“Jas! Jas, what is it? Do you know what it is?” Robin insisted, tugging on his doublet.

“Yes,” he soothed her, dropping to his knees in front of her and hugging her tightly. “Yes, I know what it is, and he’s fine.”

“Well, he’s going to be fine,” he corrected himself. “He’ll be uncomfortable for a while.”

“Uncomfortable?” Robin asked, sniffling and wiping her face off. “Why?”

“Um, well.” Jaskier extended his head and nodded at Geralt’s crotch. “I thought he was a stallion before I saw that, dear sister, but my goodness. You are indeed a gifted woman if that is what breaches you night after night.”

Normally she would have told her brother not to make such gross comments, especially about his sister’s sex life, but she was too distracted at the moment. However, her head snapped to the side and she blushed instantly as she saw what he was talking about. “Jas, what happened to him?” she murmured.

Geralt was completely hard, his thick length straining the black fabric of his pants.

“Well, if someone was trying to poison him, they failed miserably,” Jaskier observed. “This was a bottle of liquid aphrodisiac, dear sister. Certainly not meant to be consumed all at once, I might add. But there’s nothing objectionable in it. I imagine he’ll be fine. Eventually.”

Geralt suddenly sat straight up, shaking his head and huffing. “What the fuck happened?” he growled.

Jaskier chuckled. “Oh, yeah, look at his pupils. The size of plates.”

He stood and clapped Geralt on the shoulder. “You’ve been dosed with aphrodisiacs, my friend. Like, massively.”

Geralt blinked rapidly. He lifted his hand and looked at it, then touched his chest curiously.

He mumbled something unintelligible and Robin glanced at Jaskier. “Is there anything I can do for him?”

“Well, no, technically,” Jaskier answered. “It’s going to last as long as it lasts no matter what, but it would probably be much more pleasant if you did, you know… him.”

“Oh.” Robin nodded. “Oh, I see. Um…”

She bit her lip and Jaskier nodded. “Why don’t we switch rooms? I’ll just go back to yours.”

He straightened his clothes and grinned at her. “Good luck. If you can last the night, I’ll be very impressed. And a little scared, honestly.”

He slipped out the door and shut it behind him when she didn’t reply. As soon as he was gone, she took Geralt’s face in her hands.

“Geralt, talk to me,” she whispered. “How are you feeling?”

He looked at her, then reached down, grabbing her waist and lifting her onto his lap. Her legs parted automatically and he moaned as she rubbed against his throbbing erection. He buried his nose in her neck and inhaled deeply.

“Why do you smell scared, Robin?”

His voice was trembling. She untied the leather thong holding part of his hair back and combed her fingers through the strands soothingly.

“I’m scared for you, Geralt,” she murmured. “Someone tried to hurt you.”

“I’m fine,” he assured her, “except that my desire for you burns like fire.”

She knew it was just the potion intensifying his feelings, but the confession still made warmth pool in her belly.

“I’m yours, Geralt,” she reminded him. “You can quench your desire.”

He hummed deep in his throat and rocked her in his lap. She gasped as she rubbed against him again. Geralt really was a stallion in bed. As much as her brother loved to make a joke of it, it was true. But even she had never felt him aroused like this.

“We are both wearing far too many clothes,” Geralt decided.

Then, using his prodigious strength, he ripped the bodice of her dress in two. Her heavy breasts bounced down as he lifted her right out of the skirt and tossed the remains of the torn garment on the floor.

He made quick work of her few underclothes too. He laid her down on the bed and then toed off his boots, ripping his own shirt rather than pulling it over his head, even ripping his pants as he struggled to get them off quickly.

Then he fell on top of her, pinning her arms to the bed by the wrists, parting her legs eagerly. He dropped his head against her breast and took another deep breath.

“Always so ready, Robin,” he rasped. “You spoil me.”

And she was ready for him. She had been since the moment he’d lifted her onto him and she’d felt him against her. Despite her worry, she couldn’t control her body’s reactions to him.

“Yes, Geralt.”

She tipped her head back. He chased her lips with his, kissing her at the same moment that he thrust into her, going as deep as he dared on a first stroke. He groaned loudly and she cried out, writhing underneath him as she helplessly fought to put her arms around him, to wrap her legs around his waist.

“You stay trapped while I ravage you this time, little mage. But I promise you you’ll get your chance to really play.”

He started to move, going deeper each time he pulled out and pushed back in. He knew that she loved being beneath him like this, helpless against his onslaught. He did it because she liked it. And she knew that if she ever wanted him to stop, if it was ever too much, all she had to do was say the word and he would listen.

She had yet to tell him to stop, though. Even when it was close to seeming like too much, she always wanted just a little more. No matter how long she lived, she wanted to spend every night in his arms.

She couldn’t tell him that, of course. But, for now, he didn’t show any signs of wanting to stop. She would have to be satisfied with that.

Geralt bottomed out with his next thrust, staying inside her and rotating his hips, panting with need. His brow furrowed and he bit his lip as he continued to move.

“What is it, Geralt?” she asked breathlessly, instantly worried that whatever he’d ingested was having some adverse effect on him.

“I can’t hang on. I don’t know why.”

“Don’t,” she told him instantly. “Please.”

“I don’t think I could stop myself if I wanted to,” he confessed.

His hips stuttered and then he was coming inside her, crying out with each spurt. His grip on her wrists loosened and she stroked his shaking arms, then cupped his cheeks in her hands so she could look at his face as he came undone.

It was a sight she wasn’t used to seeing in such clarity. Usually, by the time he finished, she was already there, lost in the throes of her own pleasure and therefore too distracted to pay attention to him.

She’d have to look another time when he wasn’t under the influence to see if it was any different, but all she knew in the moment was that he was exquisitely beautiful.

His brow was smooth for once, relaxed in pleasure instead of furrowed in worry. His eyes were closed, his long lashes brushing his cheeks as they fluttered slightly. His mouth was partially open, his teeth biting into his lower lip tenderly at the corner. Every sound that escaped him was breathy and wanton, and his long silver hair fluttered against his stubbled cheeks and jawline as he continued moving.

She traced her fingers down his back, briefly squeezing his firm, round ass before sliding one hand between his legs and grasping his balls, pumping them gently.

His breath caught in his throat and he made a guttural sound, still spilling inside her as she worked him. Finally, he stopped, briefly collapsing on top of her, kissing her neck as his chest heaved.

After a moment, he pushed himself up off of her and groaned. “I’m still just as hard as when I started,” he whined.

“I think it’s going to be that way for a while, Geralt,” she observed. “But I’m here. Let me take care of you.”

He rolled onto his back, taking her with him, balancing her on his hips and thighs. She moaned as she sat down on him, taking him deep again. She braced herself against his chest, her hands tangling in the hair there.

His muscles rippled underneath her as he sat up, wrapping his strong arms around her waist. He was such a big man that she felt encased by him no matter which position they were in.

“I need you to come for me before I do again,” he slurred.

Though he was remarkably in control of his faculties, more than he had been when she’d brought him upstairs, certainly, he still wasn’t entirely himself. Enough to be aware, or she would have felt guilty, like she was taking advantage of him.

It oddly warmed her heart that he was still able to be concerned about her, even in his altered state.

“Geralt, it’s all right,” she reassured him. “One night can be about you, after all.”

He shook his head adamantly, sliding his hands up to her breasts and lifting them, kissing them all over. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held on tightly, moaning.

His tongue swirled over each peaked nipple before he nipped at them, his sharp canine teeth almost digging into the flesh of her breasts. One of his hands wandered back down to grip her ass and start to gently bounce her up and down on him.

“I want you to come all over my aching cock, Robin,” he instructed her.

He sucked one nipple into his mouth, then the other, switching between them, sucking harder each time. It wasn’t long before she was crying out, all of her muscles clenching deliciously around his hard length.

Geralt rested his face between her full breasts, pressing up into her, wanting to feel her orgasm on every inch of his cock. “Good girl, Robin,” he praised her, savoring the shiver that ran up her spine.

He knew she loved being called that.

She tugged his head back by his hair and kissed him softly, very aware that he was still painfully hard inside her.

“Lay back and let me ride you, Geralt,” she requested.

He almost whimpered at the idea, leaning back carefully, letting go of her and folding his arms behind his head.

Even through the odd haze his brain seemed to be swimming in at the moment, he could appreciate the unusual beauty of her body. His eyes raked over the pleasing curves of her breasts, belly, hips, ass, and thighs as she sat on him.

The light of the fire glinted off of the shiny skin of her scars, which covered her from beneath her breasts to her waist, and again from the tops of her thighs to her knees.

She was still shy about them, but not as shy as she’d been when they’d met. And he thought they were even more beautiful now.

He smiled and bit his lip in anticipation as she reached up and took down her long hair, letting it tumble over her shoulders. She pushed it all behind her so he could still see her breasts.

She gazed at him, her hazel eyes wide as she teasingly pushed those breasts together with her arms and braced her hands against his chest again. His stomach muscles flexed as she moved her hips and started to ride him.

She didn’t do this very often. He was the more dominant one. Because of her life, she generally preferred to be underneath him, surrounded by him, where she felt safe and protected. But she was also adventurous, and she loved to please, so every once in a while, she got on top.

“Mmm, yes…” he groaned happily.

He licked his lips as she started to move faster and harder, lifting his hips to meet her movements. He could feel her plump ass bouncing against his toned thighs and tight balls, and see her breasts moving up and down.

Keeping his eyes on her, he reached out and slid his hands over her thighs, squeezing and kneading. He felt her toes curl against his legs and then she sat down, sheathing him completely and rolling her hips in perfect little circles.

He had never had so little control over his release before. Normally he could hang on and give her several orgasms before he let himself go, but not tonight.

“Robin, I’m…”

“Go ahead, Geralt,” she murmured.

He planted his heels against the bed and pushed up into her as he finished, his fingers digging into her soft flesh and leaving bruises. His eyes practically rolled back into his head with the pleasure.

It didn’t last quite as long as his previous release, but it was still substantially longer than normal.

And, to his dismay, he was still hard after it was over.

He had stamina, and most of the time it served him well. But this was strangely artificial and almost painful. It was likely that whatever he’d been dosed with would have killed a normal human being.

At least it had been him who drank it. He would have never forgiven himself if it had been Robin, or even Jaskier.

“Fuck,” she murmured, bringing him back to the moment.

He chuckled and opened his eyes, realizing that she was staring fixedly at his face. “That’s my line,” he teased. “And we’re going to have to again, apparently.”

She smiled in spite of the fact that he knew she was worried about him.

“What are you looking at me for?” he added curiously.

She blushed. He still found it amusing, and entirely adorable, that she could blush while she was sitting on his hard cock.

“I was looking at your face,” she confessed. “I don’t usually get to see it when you come.” She paused, then whispered, “I’d like to see it when you’re entirely yourself.”

He nodded. Next time they did this and he was himself, he’d let her see.

“Would you turn around and ride me again?” he requested. “I’ll spank you.”

She wiggled on him at the thought. “Yes, Geralt.”

She didn’t even get off of him all the way, just rotated with him inside her. He sat up again, grasping her hair in his hands. He laid back slowly, tugging on it gently, making her tip her head back, then arch to take him even deeper.

“Play with your breasts until you come on me, Robin,” he ordered.

If he couldn’t let her come first like usual, he was at least going to make sure they kept pace with each other.

He kept a tight hold on her hair, watching her arms. He could just see the sides of her breasts as she caressed and squeezed them. She tightened around him with each touch, panting as she got closer.

“That’s it,” he urged her.

He reached out with his free hand and lightly swatted her ass, giving her a preview of what was to come.

It was enough. She tugged on her nipples, then fell forward slightly as she started to come. He yanked on her hair, keeping her upright, feeling her short, blunt nails digging into his thighs.

He sat up a little more, tugging her hair tighter, then reached out and smacked her ass harder. She whimpered and started to move again, knowing he needed it.

“That’s it,” he repeated, his chest heaving. “That’s it, Robin.”

He twisted his hand so he could spank her other cheek. She started to move up and down on him in the same rhythm as his spanks, reaching up and holding her breasts so they didn’t bounce too hard.

As always, he enjoyed watching her skin pink as he spanked her. He didn’t have as much time as usual to focus on it, though, because before he knew it, he was coming again.

Instead of waiting until he was finished this time, he sat up and flipped her onto her hands and knees, grabbing her ass in both hands and squeezing it as he pumped in and out of her slowly, watching as his come ran down the inside of her thighs.

They were both already sweaty, panting messes, and the night wasn’t even over.

She pushed up onto her elbows and glanced back at him over her shoulder. She was trembling, her hair was sticking to her cheeks, and her eyes were wide and glazed over with pleasure.

It was just the way he liked to see her. He could make her forget her troubles when he did this, and he was thankful for that.

“Can you take more, Robin?” he asked.

He wasn’t going to force her if she was done. He could manage himself. He’d gone through worse in the past before he had met her, when he didn’t have any other help or companionship.

She nodded, resting her head on her forearms and pushing her ass up into the air for him. “Please, Geralt…” she moaned.

Now he could really spank her. He hit first one cheek, then the other, hard enough so he could see his handprints appear briefly on her skin before the outline faded. She squealed into the bed as she came around him, much to his satisfaction.

He grabbed her waist and began to pound into her roughly. He wasn’t sure he’d ever fucked her this hard before, but he still made sure that it wasn’t hard enough to hurt her.

He would never hurt her. He’d promised himself that a long time ago.

He buried himself deep inside of her and came again, all of his muscles aching. He leaned over her, licking up her spine in one smooth stroke before grabbing her breasts, kneading and squeezing them, pulling on her hard nipples until she came again too. Her cry was breathless and desperate, but she didn’t stop him when he pulled out, flipped her, and started all over again.

They cycled through the same positions many more times. He had her legs over his shoulders and was slowly stroking into her when he came for the last time, sighing in relief as he realized that he was finally soft.

“Fuck, I thought it would never,” he groaned, collapsing on top of her, moving her legs first.

She managed to wrap her arms around him, but otherwise she was limp. He knew he had pushed her to the breaking point, but she had never denied him.

She laughed tiredly. “Thank fuck,” she muttered. “I don’t think I could have taken you one more time.”

He chuckled. “I’m surprised you didn’t give up before now,” he confessed.

“I didn’t want you to hurt, Geralt,” she murmured, lifting her head slightly.

“Is the sun coming up?” she asked incredulously. “Did we really have sex all night?”

“We did,” he rumbled.

Somehow, he turned over, taking her with him, cradling her against his chest. “Let’s get some sleep,” he suggested.

“Yes, please,” she yawned.

He held on until she was resting comfortably against him in a deep slumber. Then he let sleep take him too.

They didn’t wake until the next morning. As they both sat up and stretched, their stomachs rumbled, making them laugh. Geralt, feeling quite restored after a whole day and night of sleep, kissed her and slipped out of bed, searching for their clothes.

He frowned when he found them, holding them up. “Did I do this?” he wondered.

She had arranged the pillows and blankets so she could sit up comfortably in the bed. She nodded at him. “You were quite desperate, especially in the beginning,” she explained.

His brow furrowed. “I’m sorry. I liked that dress.”

She shook her head at him and waved her hand. The clothes knit back together in his hands until they were perfect again. “Still underestimating me, aren’t you?” she teased.

He turned to her and grinned, starting to pull his pants on. “You were useless with most magic at one time,” he reminded her.

She stuck her tongue out at him, smiling giddily, clearly happy in spite of everything they’d just been through.

His smile faded slightly as he really looked at her. “I did all of that to you too?”

She looked down at herself. She was quite bruised. Her delicate, pale skin was splotched with purple, and there were bite marks on her breasts. Her thighs were still pink, slightly chafed from the length of time they’d spent together.

“I enjoyed it, Geralt,” she assured him softly. “I’m not hurt. Are you?”

He looked skeptical, but all he did he was grunt. “My cock is sore,” he admitted ruefully.

“I’ve got something for that,” Jaskier sung as he opened the door, holding a large tray over his shoulder in one hand.

Robin quickly gathered the blankets over herself, smiling gratefully as he set the tray down. He tossed a jar at Geralt. “For your cock,” he explained, raising an eyebrow.

Then he began to make plates for all of them. Robin was fairly certain that he’d ordered the inn’s entire menu, but she didn’t even care as he set a huge portion of roasted chicken, bread, cheese, olives, and spicy pickled peppers in front of her, along with a large flagon of sparkling cider.

“Love you, Jas,” she told him.

He winked at her as Geralt came back over and sank down beside her. He waited as Jaskier made him a plate too, bringing it over to the bed. Finally, he made himself one, then wandered back to join them.

“So, dear sister,” he said archly, “can you walk?”

She shook her head. “I can barely feel my legs, Jas. Or my. Well. You know.”

“You know I’ve heard the word cunt before, right?”

She rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t mean I have to say it in front of my baby brother,” she retorted.

“Did you last until he was soft? I know, I know,” he added before she could berate him. “But I had to ask.”

“Once again, barely,” she confessed.

“That’s more impressive than all of your magic, dear sister.”

“Thanks. I think.”

Geralt snorted, smiling at both of them.

“Well, I see what it takes to make you cheerful,” Jaskier joked. “So are we staying for a few more days, then?”

“Should we?” Robin wondered. “Whoever tried to hurt Geralt might still be here.”

“They’re not. While you two were busy fucking like rabbits, I found him.”

“You did?” Geralt asked through a mouthful of chicken. “By yourself?”

“I’m good for something by myself, you know. He won’t be a problem anymore,” he replied mysteriously.

“What did you do, Jas?” Robin wondered suspiciously.

“Bravely accidentally tripped him so he landed on the second bottle he was carrying and started to panic because he thought it was poison. The castle guards have him now. Dragged him out crying,” Jasker finally mumbled, suddenly very interested in his cheese.

Robin giggled as Geralt shook his head affectionately. “You’re an idiot, Jaskier,” he said. “But you’re our idiot.”

“Thank you, Jas. For everything,” Robin added seriously.

“You’re welcome. Now let’s have a nice family dinner that’s quiet, shall we?”

Robin briefly laid her hand on Geralt’s cheek, her eyes imploring him to not feel bad about her current condition. He nodded at her, reassuring her that he understood.

And so they sat, eating in a companionable silence, having a moment of peace before their next adventure.


	3. A Grain of Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier disappears and it’s up to Geralt and Robin to find him.

“See the birds?” Geralt asked, pointing to the sky. “That means something’s there.”

He tightened the strap binding his sword to his back and snapped Roach’s reins. “Hang on, little mage.”

She did. Her back was straight with tension, and magic thrummed through her veins.

She shut her eyes briefly and hoped that it wasn’t her brother under those birds.

****

It wasn’t. She breathed a sigh of relief and dismounted after Geralt as he went to examine the dead couple.

There were several wolves nearby, but one stern look from him sent them running back into the forest.

He looked over his shoulder at Robin. “Can you?” he requested.

She came to stand beside him. She raised her hand, and the man’s body rose along with it.

The woman’s corpse was useless. Her face and throat were gone. She wouldn’t be able to talk.

When the man opened his mouth, though, all he did was scream.

She released him and he slumped back down to the ground.

“What was it, Geralt?” she murmured. “What killed them?”

“I can’t be sure. The only thing I can be sure of is where they were coming from.”

He held out a damp piece of parchment and she glanced at it.

“Murivel,” she breathed. “Same place as Jas.”

He nodded. “And there’s this. I’ve never seen anything like it before. Is it in any of your books?”

She took the blue rose he handed to her and frowned as she turned it over in her hand. She shook her head. “No. I’ve never seen anything like it either.”

Her face fell and her eyes filled with tears. Geralt immediately stepped forward and pulled her into an embrace.

He tried to soothe her as she sobbed against his chest. “We’ll find him, Robin. I promise. I would never let anything happen to him.”

And not just because he was her brother. The bard had grown on him. Not as fast as she had, of course, but eventually.

“Do you really know nothing else?” she whispered.

“I can only tell you what it’s not,” Geralt said ruefully. “It’s not a werewolf or a leshy. There are no swamps nearby, so it’s not a kikimora or a vypper.” He paused. “And I can’t smell it.”

“Meaning it’s probably something technically dead,” Robin observed.

“Likely so. There’s only one way to find out.”

He led her back to Roach and lifted her on. She didn’t need him to anymore, but he liked to, especially when she was vulnerable.

He always wanted to make her feel safe.

He swung onto the mare behind her. “We follow the road,” he revealed. “We’ll find whatever it is, it will lead us to your brother, and then I will slay it. I promise.”

She nodded. “I know, Geralt. I trust you.”

****

It was when they came to a portion of the path that had to be traversed on foot that he realized they were being watched.

He tied Roach securely to a tree, then curled his hand around Robin’s upper arm and put a finger to his lips, then pointed.

Just down the hill stood a woman. She was wearing a long white dress, and her disheveled black hair fell to her shoulders.

Robin tilted her head curiously. The woman’s appearance was unsettling. Her eyes were far too large for her face.

When she saw them staring at her, she ran. Too fast, Robin thought. More like a deer than a human.

“What was she?” she asked Geralt.

He shook his head. “I can’t say for sure.”

He hated that all of his answers were so vague, but he wasn’t going to lie about it when so much was at stake.

So they followed the woman along a stone wall to a sturdy gate. Geralt pushed it open, looking around cautiously as it squeaked. The courtyard beyond was deserted and littered with debris.

At the far end was a mansion that had fallen into severe disrepair. They moved towards it as one, stopping at the grand fountain in the center of the courtyard on the way. It had long been out of use, clearly, but next to it was a bush covered in blue roses.

Geralt reached out and touched one. Robin held the other he’d found up for comparison.

At that moment, the mansion’s door and all of its shutters flew open. A creature emerged from the ruins, rushing toward them.

In one fluid movement, Geralt pushed Robin safely behind him and drew his sword.

The creature stopped when it saw the blade. Robin peeked out from behind Geralt to see what it was.

She didn’t recognize it. It looked mostly human, except that it had the head of a bear. Though the head didn’t look quite right. It was sort of a grotesque approximation of a bear, really.

It waved its arms at them and Robin saw that its hands were also paws.

“Flee, mortals!” it roared. “Or I’ll devour you! Tear you to pieces!”

Robin actually laughed. Geralt smirked.

The creature didn’t appreciate their responses. When they didn’t move, it squealed at them, not unlike a pig.

The sound was loud, at least. It vibrated the decrepit shutters on the mansion.

When they still didn’t move, the creature gasped in frustration. “Brave, aren’t you? Why don’t you lower your sword? You are in my home, after all. It would only be polite.”

“It’s not very polite to greet guests by claiming you’ll devour them,” Geralt countered calmly.

“You are trespassing, and you touched my flowers!” the creature retorted. “Am I supposed to welcome you with open arms?”

“We’re only searching for someone,” Robin explained. “Tell us if you’ve seen him and we’ll be on our way.”

The creature paused as it saw her. Geralt’s eyes narrowed, but he straightened and sheathed his sword. “I can draw it again,” he cautioned, “faster than you imagine.”

“Are you really not frightened of me?” the creature wondered.

“Should I be?” Geralt asked nonchalantly.

“If you’re really not, perhaps you should come in,” it offered. “But I warn you. This house does what I tell it to.”

To demonstrate, it raised a paw and the shutters slammed closed. Geralt didn’t move, and Robin stayed behind him.

“Do you live alone?” Geralt inquired casually as he finally stepped forward.

“What’s it to you?”

The witcher shrugged. “Just curious. We accept your invitation.”

He slid an arm protectively around Robin’s waist as they went inside.

The interior was in need of repair as much as the outside, and the home clearly hadn’t been cleaned in a while. Geralt could smell the dust in the air.

Geralt’s amulet swung against his armor as they walked, glinting in the low light. The creature studied it out of the corner of his eye. “What’s that around your neck?”

“My guild’s badge.” Geralt halted for a moment. “Have a closer look, if you’d like.”

The creature turned and took the amulet in the palm of its paw.

Robin bit her lip as nothing happened. Monsters were hurt by silver. Geralt’s amulet was silver. Yet the creature was unaffected.

Geralt nodded slightly, as if the action had confirmed a suspicion he’d been harboring.

“Is that a dog? What do you make? Muzzles?” the creature murmured, unimpressed.

It led them to a dining room and a long wooden table, taking its seat at the head. Geralt pulled out a chair for Robin, then sat down between her and the creature.

The creature thumped its paws on the table and food suddenly appeared. “Eat if you’re hungry,” it offered, tearing into a terrine.

Geralt shook his head slightly. “No thank you.”

In the past, he might have accepted the meal, but he’d come to prefer Robin’s food. He generally trusted food at inns as well, but from a mysterious creature living alone in the woods? Definitely not.

“What shall I call you?” the creature asked.

“Geralt,” the witcher answered. “And this is my companion, Robin.”

“I’m Nivellen. Sometimes Degen or Fanger, depending on who’s telling the story.”

“And how long have you lived here, Nivellen?”

Geralt gestured to the home around them.

“Twelve years,” Nivellen responded.

“How did you come to acquire it?” Geralt continued.

“You ask a lot of questions, Geralt. I think I prefer your companion. Mostly silent. I do like a demure woman.”

Robin swallowed, but didn’t say anything.

The creature shrugged. “The story can’t possibly hurt. Do you see that portrait on the wall over there?”

Geralt followed the direction of the creature’s finger and nodded. Robin looked too, but she couldn’t see that far in the darkness.

“That’s me,” Nivellen revealed. “Or it used to be.”

“Oh?” Geralt hummed.

“You can see it!” Nivellen suddenly accused him.

Geralt smiled. “I can.”

“Who are you? It’s hung beyond the candlelight. A human would have to get up to see it. You’re not human.”

“Not quite,” Geralt admitted.

“What are you, then?”

“A witcher,” he replied easily.

Nivellen’s eyes flashed. “Who paid you to deal with me?”

“No one,” Geralt told it honestly.

“Are you lying?” Nivellen added bluntly.

“I’m not in the habit of lying,” Geralt assured it.

“I’ve heard about witchers. That they’re turned into monsters to kill other monsters. Yet one is sitting right in front of you and you do nothing,” Nivellen sneered.

Geralt chuckled. “You’re not a monster, Nivellen.”

Nivellen barked out a hoarse laugh. “What am I, then? A cranberry pudding?”

“You’re not a monster,” Geralt repeated patiently. “You’re under a spell. And you must know who cast it.”

“And what if I do?”

“Well, it might be able to be uncast. Do you want me to try?”

It was something he might be capable of doing, depending on the circumstances.

“No.” Nivellen paused. “That surprises you, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” Geralt confessed.

“Get comfortable. I’ll tell you the whole story.”

So Geralt listened as Nivellen explained that his father had been the lord of the area. Nivellen had taken control of his lands after his early death, and fallen in with a gang that turned him to crime.

Robin’s eyes darkened and her fists tightened under the table as Nivellen revealed that he had raped a priestess who then cursed him. Geralt quickly reached over and grabbed her hand. The fiery magic burning in her fingertips didn’t hurt him, and she calmed slightly at his touch.

After, Nivellen had turned into the creature before them now. He had been alone, until a man stopped in the courtyard and picked several of his flowers for his daughter. Nivellen had threatened him and demanded his daughter in exchange for his life.

When the man had actually complied, he’d chosen to reward him with treasure. As a result, the man had spread the story, and many fathers arrived, eager to sell their daughters.

He only kept them for a year at most, with varying results each time. When it went well, he enjoyed the companionship. Though he’d originally hoped that one of them might break the curse, since he’d heard that kisses from virgins or some vague expression of love could do such a thing, none of them ever had. While he’d given up hope of returning to normal, he’d become content with his existence, and that was quite enough for him.

Yet there was nothing in his story to indicate that he was killing people on the road.

When Nivellen was done speaking, Geralt repeated his earlier question. “And do you live alone at the moment, Nivellen?”

“You asked that already,” Nivellen reminded him, eyeing Robin again. “I am often waiting for a new woman. I’m tempted to ask how much you want for your companion.”

“She’s mine,” Geralt growled immediately. “No one else touches her. Ever.”

A shiver ran up Robin’s spine at his possessiveness. It pleased her immensely, even if their relationship was only one of convenience.

Nivellen’s paws raised slowly. “Fine.” He chuckled. “You already know I’m not alone anyway, don’t you?”

“We saw her in the forest,” Geralt confirmed. “And I can sense her in this house. Along with one other. A human man.”

Robin stood, her chair clattering to the floor as she tripped over it. Geralt stood with her, as did Nivellen, who was immediately on the defensive.

“You said you were looking for someone,” he remembered darkly. “Who?”

“My brother,” Robin whispered angrily. “He’s a bard. He was traveling on your road when he disappeared.”

“If he has been taken, it’s his own fault,” Nivellen decided. “But perhaps we can bargain. Can you really break the spell?”

“I thought you were content, Nivellen,” Geralt rumbled.

The creature shrugged.

“No,” Geralt said decisively. “I know the priestess who cursed you. I do not possess the power to reverse her spell.”

“Who does?”

“Why are you suddenly so interested?” Geralt asked suspiciously.

Nivellen looked at the windows, specifically at the dying twilight in the courtyard. “I’m afraid,” he confessed. “I’ve been having hideous dreams.”

“What is she?” Geralt wondered.

“A rusalka.”

Geralt’s eyes narrowed as a piercing song suddenly split the air as the last sliver of sun dipped below the horizon. He was suddenly nauseous.

He swallowed thickly and drew his sword as the woman they’d followed emerged from the basement.

“Get out, Robin,” he commanded abruptly. “She can stun me.”

But Robin didn’t move. The woman screamed and Geralt flew backward, smashing into the wall. He slumped to the floor, his sword falling beside him as he struggled to breathe, clearly in pain.

Robin stepped forward, staring at the woman, who opened her mouth to display a set of teeth like razors. When she spread her arms, Robin realized that she had membranous wings.

Geralt was paralyzed behind her. She could hear his teeth grinding through his low, continuous moan. He was in agony.

Robin stared at the woman and raised her hands so her palms were facing out. “I don’t know what you are,” she said hollowly, “but I know you’re dead. That means you can’t hurt me.”

The woman charged.

Robin squeezed her hands shut and the woman exploded. The blood splattered sideways in both directions, soaking Nivellen, who began screaming.

Geralt gasped as Robin turned to the creature. “And you,” she seethed. “You’re just a filthy rapist.”

“Robin, no!” Geralt called, lunging for her.

Nivellen exploded too, and Robin promptly passed out.

****

Her eyes fluttered open slowly. She could feel the warmth of a fire beside her.

“Geralt, she’s waking up!” Jaskier called, gazing down at her, his hand gently touching her face. “Are you all right, dear sister?” he asked sincerely, staring at her worriedly.

“Jas?” she wondered, smiling. “You’re here.”

“Of course I am,” he replied. “You rescued me.”

“Well, technically, I did,” Geralt pointed out, coming over and sitting at her other side. “You passed out.”

“I did?”

Geralt nodded. “You used too much energy, Robin. I tried to stop you, but that damn thing paralyzed me.”

“What was it? You said it could stun you, but that was all.”

“A bruxa,” Geralt explained. “A particularly nasty brand of vampire, and one of the few monsters that is truly dangerous to even a seasoned witcher.”

He cupped her cheek in his hand and looked at her fondly. “You saved my life. If you hadn’t been there, I probably would have died.”

“But,” he added, helping her sit up, “you have to learn not to overdo it like that. You scared me.”

Jaskier smiled a knowing smile. “Get her closer to the fire. I’ll bring the food.”

Geralt lifted her into his lap and sat close to the flames, cradling her against his chest and putting his arms around her.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “I didn’t mean to. I was just so angry.”

“Rightly so,” he agreed. “Just be more careful. Please.”

“Are you all right? You were in so much pain,” she murmured.

“You could tell?”

She nodded. He kissed the top of her head, then rested his chin on it gently. “I’m just fine. Especially now that I know you’re all right too.”

Jaskier came to join them, handing her a bowl of stew along with some bread and cheese.

“What happened, Jas?” she asked as Geralt helped her eat.

“I got grabbed on the road,” he admitted ruefully. “Thankfully, since meeting Geralt, I always wear silver around my neck, so she couldn’t come near me enough to feed. Just enough to stick me in that wretched basement.”

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she told him.

He squeezed her hand. “Me too. Now eat. You need your strength.”

She fell asleep, snuggled against Geralt’s chest, as soon as she was finished. Geralt stroked her hair while Jaskier looked on fondly.

“Could they really have broken the curse?” he wondered. “The women, I mean. I heard everything you said to each other, and that’s what he was trying to do, wasn’t it?”

Geralt nodded. “It’s a common myth. A kiss, usually.”

“So if, say, my sister had kissed him…” Jaskier suggested idly, watching Geralt carefully.

Geralt’s head snapped to the side and he glared at Jaskier. “She would never,” he replied firmly. “And even if he forced her, it still wouldn’t work.”

“Why not?”

“Well, magic is a strange thing, but all of its practitioners agree that the only kind of love that can break a spell is true love. And Robin…”

Geralt paused and swallowed, stopping himself. He took a deep breath, then finished. “Robin would never love someone like him. He may not have been a monster, technically, but he wasn’t good.”

Jaskier nodded as Geralt stood with her in his arms. “I’m going to make sure she’s more comfortable,” the witcher said idly, wandering off to their tent.

Jaskier stared into the fire contentedly. “And Robin’s in love with you,” he murmured to the flames, finishing the witcher’s unspoken thought.

He shook his head and laughed softly to himself. “You’ll both admit it eventually,” he decided, leaning back and relaxing in the quiet of the night.


	4. The Voice of Reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life comes at the trio from all sides when Robin takes Geralt to a temple to heal.

She hovered over him as he slept. He could feel the bed dip where she sat beside him, and smell the crushed lavender and mint on her hands as she gently stroked his hair back from his face.

She couldn’t heal him. She could never learn that magic. But he knew she would take him to someone who could.

No matter what, she always took care of him. It was an attention he had come not only to rely on, but to crave.

He felt something cool press against his lips. “Drink, Geralt,” she whispered.

He obeyed. He would never ignore her voice.

Suddenly, he fell into a dream. He was lying naked in a large white bed, his silver hair fanned out on the pillow he rested on. White curtains billowed in a warm breeze. He could hear the ocean and smell salt.

He watched her, his eyes lidded with desire as she straddled his hips. Her scars shone in the sunlight. He reached out to touch them, pulling her closer.

She bent and her loose hair tumbled down around his face. He breathed in, intoxicated by her scent.

Her breasts caressed his chest as she lifted her hips. When she sat back down, his cock was sheathed inside her.

She sat back up abruptly, tossing all of her hair behind her head and bracing her hands against his chest.

Then she started to rock.

He moaned, gripping her hips hard enough to leave marks as he moved with her.

****

When he woke, sun was streaming into the room. He sat up and took a deep breath. Her scent lingered, but it wasn’t fresh.

A different woman sat at the end of the bed. He recognized her.

“Nenneke,” he greeted her, pushing up onto his elbows.

She nodded at him. “Geralt,” she replied.

“Where is she?” he wondered.

“She’ll be back shortly. She wanted me to sit with you while she was gone,” she explained. “May I check your wounds?”

“Of course.”

He knew where they were now. Melitele’s temple. Nenneke was a priestess, and one of the most skilled healers he knew.

“How did you let yourself get hurt like this, Geralt?” she scolded him. “Are you losing your reflexes already?”

He rolled his eyes at her and grunted. “No.”

“Then how, Geralt? This wound is dangerously close to your carotid artery. You’re not usually so careless.”

“There were… extenuating circumstances,” he answered. “I was protecting someone.”

Nenneke looked at him skeptically. Before she could inquire further, Robin walked back into the room.

“Geralt!” she cried, immediately flying to his side. “I knew you’d awaken the moment I left.” She shook her head at herself. “How is he, Nenneke?”

Geralt shifted onto one elbow so he could reach out and touch Robin’s cheek soothingly. “I’m fine, little mage. There’s no need to trouble yourself.”

Nenneke raised an eyebrow in his direction. Robin’s eyes had fluttered shut at his touch, so she didn’t notice.

“Reapply the eucalyptus salve,” she ordered. “Then you can both have breakfast in the refectory.”

Robin’s eyes flickered open and she smiled at the woman gratefully. “Thank you, Nenneke. We’ll be there shortly.”

Nenneke stood and walked out of the room, leaving them alone.

****

After breakfast, they took a walk on the grounds. Women worked around them, tending to the daily operations of the temple. It was one of the more successful religious organizations, thanks to the skills learned by its acolytes. Everyone needed healing from time to time.

Nenneke joined them, smoothly falling into step by Geralt’s side. “I want to hypnotize you,” she stated.

Robin looked at her curiously. Geralt just shrugged. “I can’t be hypnotized,” he reminded her.

“Strictly speaking, it’s not hypnosis. More of an induced trance. It could tell us something about your fate.”

Robin’s eyes flashed at the use of the word. Geralt simply sighed and shook his head. “Why, Nenneke? There’s no reason.”

“You’re sick, Geralt.”

“I’m injured,” he corrected her.

“I know what I said,” she retorted. “Something’s not right with you, Geralt. I can sense it.”

“I’m a witcher,” Geralt laughed. “Of course something’s not right.” He composed himself, then insisted, “I’m fine, Nenneke. I don’t need your trance.”

“As you wish,” the priestess replied tersely. “But I think you’re making a mistake.”

She turned and left them. At the entrance to the garden, she glanced back.

Robin was looking over her shoulder, staring at Nenneke.

If Geralt wouldn’t agree to a trance, she wondered if the woman would.

She highly doubted it.

****

The next day, they were summoned to the main hall. When he saw the knights gathered there, Geralt moved in front of Robin protectively.

“Don’t you dare,” she muttered. “You’re still injured.”

The knights wore crimson cloaks with a white rose embroidered on the left shoulder. She didn’t know who they were, but Geralt seemed to recognize them.

Nenneke was sitting in a grand chair on a dais at the end of the room. The knights stood beside her. “They’ve been sent by the duke who governs these lands,” she explained blithely.

“Prince,” one of the knights corrected. “I am Tailles. Do not make me correct you again.”

“Debatable,” Nenneke replied, ignoring his other comment. “They’re the Knights of the White Rose,” she added. “They’re requesting investitures from the kingdom, which is why there are so many of them in the area.” She paused. “They’d like you to leave here as soon as possible.”

Robin shook her head adamantly. “He’s not healed yet,” she said tersely. “He’s not leaving until he is.”

“I agree,” Nenneke continued. “It is insulting to have my guest be asked to depart before he’s ready.”

“Our stay will hardly be permanent,” Geralt reassured the knights, trying to be diplomatic. “A few more days at most, I think.”

“No. You must leave immediately,” Tailles disagreed.

“I give the orders in my temple,” Nenneke reminded them calmly. “And I say Geralt of Rivia stays until he is healed. That is all there is to say of the matter.”

Tailles puffed up his chest and threw back his red cloak to reveal his breastplate. “You dare to refuse the authority of the man who rules over you?”

Nenneke laughed. “No man rules over me,” she countered.

Magic flared in Robin’s fingers, catching the eye of another knight. He touched his sword in warning. “Don’t,” he cautioned her.

Geralt growled and tensed. Robin glanced back at him. “I swear I will put you in the ground myself if you interrupt your healing,” she threatened.

“Doesn’t that defeat the purpose?” Geralt laughed.

Nenneke tilted her head. He was staring at the mage with unbridled affection in his eyes. He was practically a schoolboy.

“I can handle a few knights,” Robin assured him.

“I know you can,” he rumbled, smirking at her.

“If you harm my guests, or anyone else in this temple, for that matter,” Nenneke warned them, “you will hang, and you know that very well. Don’t force the mage to teach you manners.”

“I assure you that I will leave in a few days,” Geralt tried again. “I am here merely to heal. I’m not conducting any business in the area.”

The knights’ gazes bore into Geralt and Robin’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not the ruler who wants him gone,” she murmured. “It’s your order.”

She went very still and concentrated hard. Geralt knew she was trying to read their minds. He also knew she might not be able to. It was a magic that she hadn’t entirely mastered yet, though she was getting better at it.

“We will not tolerate the presence of a witcher here,” Tailles spoke again.

He seemed to be the one in charge. “Wizards and druids,” he revealed pointedly, glaring at Robin, “are rebelling in the area, and a witcher will only add to that trouble.”

“Hardly,” Nenneke sniffed. “Their actions have nothing to do with Geralt. And the mage with him isn’t one of your rebels.”

“I cannot make myself more clear,” Tailles finished sternly.

“And I have made it clear that you are not in charge here,” Nenneke repeated. “Leave. Now. And tell the duke’s,” she emphasized the word haughtily, “wife that if she wants to continue receiving a steady supply of aphrodisiacs, she had better impress upon her husband the dangers of letting his adopted dogs run wild.”

“I will not hear such insults!” Tailles screamed, reaching for the hilt of his blade.

Geralt kept himself still only with great effort as Robin raised her hand. The knight froze, unable to pull his weapon. When he tried to move his feet, he found that they were stuck to the floor.

The other knights twitched, but halted of their own accord as they saw her power on display.

“You’re a brat,” Geralt sneered at Tailles, his mood turning on a dime as Robin was threatened. “Halt your uncontrolled little tongue. You disrespect the noble priestess here, and your men wish to draw upon my mage. If any of you even touch another sword, I will wrest it from you and spank your arse with the flat of the blade!”

Robin swallowed and flushed. She was used to him claiming ownership of her, though she still never failed to react to it. But the sword idea? That was new. And quite appealing to her for their private activities, if she was being honest.

“I would duel with you, witcher,” Tailles insisted, attempting to be brave.

“How?” Geralt snorted. “You can’t even move, you imbecile.”

“I will be writing to the duke,” Nenneke assured him. “You have one more chance. I told you to get out.”

Robin’s jaw was tense. But she let the knight go and waited, ready for whatever he was about to do.

She relaxed slightly as the retinue left quickly, but glanced worriedly at Nenneke once they were gone.

“I’m sure they’ll be back,” the priestess sighed, staring after them in displeasure.

“They won’t like their second visit,” Robin decided nonchalantly.

Nenneke smiled. “No, they will not,” she agreed.

Geralt shook his head. “We are all in trouble when I’m the voice of reason in the room,” he pointed out. “At least I tried to be diplomatic.”

Nenneke stood and walked off, peals of laughter echoing after her.

Robin put her hands on her hips and stared Geralt down sternly. “What?” he asked innocently. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You’re going to focus on getting better,” she admonished him, turning to follow Nenneke.

She paused at the door, whirling to face him again. “And then you’re going to spank me with a sword, because I definitely want to try that.”

Geralt chuckled and leaned against a pillar, shaking his head to himself.

Robin would never cease to surprise him.

****

The next day, Nenneke found Geralt stretching in the yard. She perched on a nearby rock and waited for him to acknowledge her.

“Yes, Nenneke?” he finally asked serenely, his eyes closed, a slight smile on his face. “If you’re here to berate me, Robin approved all of the exercises I’m doing.”

“I know she did,” Nenneke replied. “She’s the one who told me where you were. I want to talk to you.”

“What about?” he wondered, holding his pose.

“You’ve changed, Geralt,” she observed.

He chuckled. “Hardly. I’m the same witcher I’ve always been.”

“No, you’re not,” she protested. “The mage. She’s affected you.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I mean that everything has a price, Geralt,” Nenneke murmured. “Your life was taking a toll on you, but you seem… restored since the last time we spoke many years ago. You were always a good person, Geralt, but it was becoming more difficult for you.”

Nenneke paused. “It was her you were protecting, wasn’t it? When you were injured?”

Geralt sighed, straightened, and looked at her. “Yes. What of it?”

“It’s just nice to see you believe in something, is all,” Nenneke said seriously.

Geralt crossed his arms over his chest and decided to humor her. “And what do I believe in, exactly?”

“Well, her, obviously.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “I believe in the sword, as I always have, Nenneke. Robin is merely a traveling companion. We crossed paths and our aims were similar, so we stuck together.”

“Oh, please, Geralt,” Nenneke huffed. “Do you think I’m blind? Or stupid?”

“Not at all, Nenneke. And I have respect for your choice to believe and the sacrifices you’ve made for that belief. It makes you a… greater being, though that’s not the most eloquent way to describe it. One thing that I must acknowledge is that faithlessness does nothing. It’s powerless.”

“I believe in my own skill, Nenneke,” Geralt continued. “And yes, this time I was injured more severely than usual, but it was still purposeful. I knew I could survive the blow. She couldn’t, and her magic couldn’t stop it.”

“You’re saying you would have done it for anyone, then?” Nenneke asked casually.

Geralt smirked. “Stop trying to get me to admit to something, Nenneke. You’re reading into it too much.”

“You may be able to lie to almost everyone else, Geralt, but you can’t lie to me,” she reminded him quietly.

He stared at her, his jaw set. “I have nothing to lie about,” he insisted. “Whatever you’re thinking, Nenneke, stop. I’m a witcher. That makes me wholly unsuitable for any other kind of life. Whatever faith I used to have in the world vanished long ago. The hormones, the herbs, the infections, the experiments, the training…”

“Robbed you of something fundamental. I know,” she admitted as he trailed off. “And she gave it back to you. I’d like to know how.”

Geralt stared at her, weighing his options. He very seldom spoke of his feelings. Most people believed witchers didn’t even have them. And these particular feelings were complicated, secret, and largely unspoken, even to the person they concerned.

“You know the story of my first monster,” he reminded Nenneke, his voice pitched low, his eyes cast firmly to the ground. “The way the girl and her father reacted. I wanted to be a hero, and was surprised to find that I would be treated as anything but.”

“Yes,” Nenneke replied simply, waiting for him to elaborate.

“I learned not to interfere after that. To mind my own business and do my job, nothing more. Not that I don’t have a code. You know I do. But it doesn’t change what I am.”

“I’ve killed every monster there is,” he reminded her. “Not that it isn’t still difficult; there’s a reason that witchers are necessary to face such beasts. But for me, it’s just my life. An endless drudgery with very few rewards, and even less thanks.”

He sighed. “And there’s the loneliness, of course. The feeling of always being utterly abandoned by the world with no solace in sight.”

He raised his head and his eyes seemed to glaze over as he recalled meeting Robin. “When I met her, Nenneke, she saved me. And I mean literally. I was hunting a cemetaur, the most deadly necrophage there is. A challenge to defeat, even for a witcher.”

He licked his lips. “I know you know she’s a necromancer. It’s not her fault. That’s just where her natural ability lies. You saw how she stopped that knight yesterday. Well, she did the same to the cemetaur. Made it one of the easiest kills I’ve ever done.”

“Yet I abandoned her immediately after,” he revealed. “Because that’s just what I do. I wasn’t five minutes down the road when I realized she was in trouble, so I went back to save her. It seemed like the right thing to do.”

“She gave me all the gratitude I had never received from anyone else,” he revealed fondly. “She wasn’t afraid of me. She tended to my wounds. She cooked for me.”

Nenneke watched, entranced by his story. His words, the look on his face, and his demeanor fascinated her. It was so different from what she was used to.

“Then she invited me into her bed. Not because I was a novelty. Because she wanted me, Nenneke. And after, she wasn’t afraid of me. She stayed in my arms.”

“And she’s stayed ever since,” Nenneke guessed.

Geralt nodded. “I always try to be reasonable, Nenneke. And I know dragging her with me isn’t reasonable. But she makes me feel like the hero I always wanted to be. With her, I’m not an old, hated witcher. I’m not the Butcher of Blaviken. I’m simply Geralt. I’m a man, warm in bed with a woman who…”

He didn’t finish that thought. He couldn’t say it to Nenneke. Not when he didn’t even have the courage to say it to Robin.

“Yet you’re troubled,” Nenneke finished for him.

“Yes. Fate vexes me,” he confessed.

“Which is why you won’t let me read you, I suspect.”

“You suspect correctly.”

“What are you so afraid of? What fate has in store for you?” she asked.

He looked up at that moment because he could smell her. Robin had entered the garden.

She caught his eye and smiled, then frowned as she saw his face. She started making her way over to them, and Nenneke knew their conversation was almost at an end.

Before Robin was close enough to hear, Geralt answered her question.

“No, Nenneke,” Geralt whispered. “I’m not afraid of what fate has in store for me. I’m more afraid of what it doesn’t.”

****

Geralt was in the library reading when Jaskier joined him. He put his feet up on the long table and stared knowingly at the witcher.

“You finally arrived,” Geralt observed. “And put your feet on the floor, or Nenneke will have your head.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes, but obeyed. “I think she wants it already, but better not to take chances, I suppose.”

Geralt sighed and looked up from his book. “What did you do, Jaskier?”

“Besides write bawdy ballads, revel in my fame, and constantly show up drunk at temples?” Jaskier hummed.

Geralt chuckled.

“That priestess had the gall to suggest that we’re not compatible,” Jaskier joked.

“Opposites attract,” Geralt said simply, shrugging.

“In our case, at least,” Jaskier agreed.

“Stop trying to distract me. What else did you do?”

“I may have flirted with a very pretty blonde with long lashes and the cutest little bottom I’ve ever seen at the front gate.”

Geralt raised his eyebrows. He had his own opinion on shapely bottoms, but he hardly expected Jaskier to share it for obvious reasons.

“Every woman here is a priestess, Jaskier. Keep it in your pants for a few days.”

“You don’t,” Jaskier accused.

“I do right now. I’m injured and your sister has me on a very short leash.”

Jaskier giggled. “I do love it when she puts her foot down with you. You cave so quickly. I’ve never seen you so eager to please.” He eyed the witcher critically. “You look well enough to me.”

“I am well enough, but Robin wants to be sure.”

“Of course she does. What are you reading?”

“History.”

“I prefer geography. The books are big enough to hide a bottle of booze behind.”

Geralt laughed heartily at that and stood, moving to a shelf and pulling down a large volume about alchemy, then extracting a bottle from behind it.

He handed it to the bard and Jaskier uncorked it, sniffing delicately. “Oohh. Plum. Lovely. Let’s drink to your health.”

Geralt shook his head. “I better not. Your sister would have my head.”

“And then all that healing would be for naught, eh?” Jaskier took a drink, then added, “There are knights roaming the countryside speaking ill of your presence here.”

“I know. They paid us a visit. Nenneke and Robin made it clear that they weren’t welcome. I doubt they’ll be back.”

“She’s getting rather big for her britches, my sister, isn’t she?” Jaskier asked proudly. “Her power increasing has made her very confident.”

“Too confident sometimes, as we’ve seen,” Geralt muttered.

“What are we doing once you’ve recovered?” the bard wondered.

“I honestly don’t know, Jaskier. The work is getting worse and worse. You’ve seen it. Away from here, certainly. This is civilization. There are no wild monsters.”

His voice was gruff and troubled. His conversation with Nenneke in the garden was still weighing him down.

“I’ve heard plenty of stories on my way,” Jaskier protested. “From the sounds of it, you should be up to your ears in work.”

“Half of them are made up, or at the very least exaggerated,” Geralt replied. “The world is changing, Jas. Something’s coming to an end.”

“Are you going to start lamenting your sad fate as a witcher again?” Jaskier groaned. “Please, spare me.”

“What’s the point, Jaskier? Monsters are so rare now that, to survive, they’ve become helpful. Or no one wants them killed because they’re a novel sight. Men ask me to catch them rusalkas, nymphs, dryads. And when someone does ask me to kill something, it’s a completely harmless creature, and I just refuse to do that.”

“So change your line of work,” Jaskier suggested.

“To what?”

“Whatever you want, Geralt. Just take my sister, settle down, and live out the rest of your days happily. Stop feeling sorry for yourself.”

“I’m not feeling sorry for myself,” he argued. “I’m just stating the facts.”

“That doesn’t change my answer,” Jaskier explained gently. “The two of you would be content.”

He shook his head. “You witchers deprive yourselves of work, slowly but surely. The better you work, the less work there is. It’s not surprising that you’ll eventually render yourselves unnecessary.”

“True,” he admitted begrudgingly.

“Let’s go south,” Jaskier decided. “There are still monsters there. They say if you want to die, all you have to do is go alone into the woods.”

“I hate the south,” Geralt grumbled. “There’s nowhere to spend any money you make. All they eat is grain, and the beer tastes like piss. Not to mention the mosquitoes.”

“You forgot the women,” Jaskier pointed out. “They don’t wash.”

Geralt stayed silent. The women didn’t concern him, of course. He had a woman, and she washed.

Jaskier smirked as he divined Geralt’s reason for not responding. “Can you even remember a time when you didn’t want a companion?” he teased.

“It’s hard to,” Geralt admitted.

It was as close to a confession as Jaskier was going to get, he knew. At least for now.

He stood. “Well, I’m going to say hello to Robin,” he informed the witcher.

“Very well.”

“Why don’t you join me? I’m sure she’d cheer you up.”

Geralt shut his book. “Perhaps I will,” he agreed.

He stood. Jaskier put an arm around the witcher and smiled. “Chin up, my friend. You’ll be back up to snuff in no time.”

****

Geralt unlaced his shirt and peeled the wet fabric away from his neck, letting his wound breathe. It was ridiculously warm, and the air was heavy and wet.

After another moment, he pulled off the shirt entirely, letting it drop to the ground beside him.

He was in a natural cavern that served as the temple’s greenhouse. There were plants everywhere, some very rare, so rare that he had never even heard of them.

Robin was helping Nenneke harvest what she needed for the day, and Nenneke was teaching her what most of the plants were useful for.

He was practically asleep, but he could still hear what they were saying as they worked.

“You can stay a few more days. I’m not worried about the knights,” Nenneke assured Robin.

“It’s all right,” Robin replied. “He’s well enough. And if I make him stay here much longer, he’ll lose what’s left of his mind.”

Nenneke laughed. “I heard about Yennefer. I know she’s looking for you. But she won’t find you here, if that’s what you’re worried about. She was here two months ago and I didn’t tell her anything. I did not like that woman’s aura.”

“I’m not surprised,” Robin observed drily. “Considering what she’s trying to do.”

After a pause, Robin wondered, “Did she ask after Geralt?”

“No, she didn’t mention him.”

“Not at all?” Geralt hummed, though it really didn’t concern him in the least.

Nenneke rolled her eyes. “Men. So egocentric.” She and Robin laughed, then she continued. “I could tell she’s angry with you. It was rolling off of her in waves.”

“Let her be.” Robin shrugged. “Angry or not, I’m going to stop her.”

“She also asked after a cure,” Nenneke admitted.

“It’s futile,” Robin said bluntly. “Even if she’s able to cast the spell correctly, it will do nothing for her.”

“You’re very sure. Why?” Nenneke asked.

“There are some things not even magic can fix,” Robin revealed. “It was magic that deprived her of her reproductive organs. She received something in exchange for them. It’s a conversion that magic will never reverse. It’s a principle. She can’t subvert it, no matter how much she wants to.”

“I agree,” Nenneke told her.

She glanced back at Geralt, who appeared to be sleeping now. “It’s not just his body that’s injured. It’s his mind. His soul. Yours too.”

Robin smiled. “You want us both to undergo your trance.”

“I do,” Nenneke confirmed. “Will you?”

Robin paused and looked back at Geralt along with the priestess. “I’m afraid to know the future,” she admitted.

“So is he,” Nenneke revealed.

“He has his reasons,” Robin deflected.

“And yours?” Nenneke asked.

Robin hesitated. Geralt looked asleep, but he wasn’t. He was listening. She considered that and then shook her head. “They’re my own.”

She stood. “Thank you for teaching me, Nenneke. I’ll take these back for you.”

She gathered up both baskets, then quickly retreated. Nenneke sighed.

Geralt opened his eyes and sat up slowly.

She looked at him ruefully. “So many truths neither of you can admit. It’s a shame.”

Geralt shrugged. “Like she said. We have our reasons.”

“Your reasons are all foolish.” She paused. “Do you know why plants grow here that will grow nowhere else, Geralt?”

He shook his head. “No, I don’t.”

“The crystal roof acts as a filter. It eliminates the lethal rays found in sunlight.”

“You’re suggesting that the truth would be our filter.”

“Yes. Rather than considering other drastic measures. Such as your wish.”

Geralt’s eyes flickered briefly. He didn’t enjoy the way Nenneke picked thoughts out of his head, but he knew it wasn’t purposeful. They just came to her.

“Have it your way,” she decided. “I hope that it’s not too late when you finally choose to be honest with each other.”

She turned and strode purposefully toward the entrance of the cave.

“Nenneke?” Geralt stopped her.

She turned and looked in his direction. “Yes, Geralt?”

“If I had done it. If I had made the wish to bind us through fate,” he explained. “Would it have worked?”

She shook her head. “Only superficially. You would have been drawn to each other, but without reason. It would have been profoundly false. But you already knew that.”

“I just wanted confirmation,” he admitted.

“What you have with her now is far better, Geralt. You just need to be honest with her, like I said.”

“Perhaps,” he mused. “One day.”

He sat up and reached into the pouch at his waist, withdrawing a handful of gems. He picked out the nephrites and held them out to her. “For the temple,” he told her. “To pay for our stay.”

“That’s not necessary, Geralt,” Nenneke refused. “What will you do with the rest?”

“Please. I insist.” He kept holding the gems out to her. “I’ll sell the diamonds and the agate,” he told her. “And set the ruby for Robin. She doesn’t think so, but she looks stunning in red.”

“I’m sure she does.” Nenneke shook her head at him. “You’re being terribly immature. Or too mature. I can’t decide which.”

Geralt chuckled. “Either way, I am wholly hers,” he murmured. “She possesses me without being possessive. I don’t know how she does it. She’s unlike any woman I’ve ever met. I think that’s all that matters. For now, at least.”

“You’re wrong, Geralt of Rivia,” Nenneke told him. “But I imagine you will only accept that conclusion once you realize it for yourself.”

“That is quite likely,” Geralt agreed.

Nenneke left and he laid down once more, attempting to recapture a dream he’d been having.

The heat quickly lulled him back there. He smiled as his dream version of Robin kissed his lips over and over.

“I love you, Geralt,” she whispered between each kiss. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

****

Geralt led Roach down the road, one arm wrapped securely around Robin. Jaskier rode beside them, almost standing up in his stirrups as he peered into the distance.

“There they are,” he murmured. “Just like you said, dear sister.”

“It was always their plan,” she said, frowning. “I saw it in his head.”

“Are we sticking to our plan?” Jaskier asked through clenched teeth, flashing a false smile as they stopped in front of the retinue of knights.

“Yes,” Geralt replied simply.

The knights’ red cloaks flapped in the wind. This time, unlike last time, they were all armed with lances, with the exception of Tailles and one other, who still only wore swords at their waists.

_Falwick is the other knight with a sword_ , Robin said to Geralt, using her telepathy to communicate with him silently. _He’s slightly more reasonable. But only slightly._

Geralt nodded against her cheek to show he understood.

“Who’s the dwarf?” Jaskier wondered bluntly.

Tailles drew his sword and stalked toward them. Falwick followed with the dwarf.

Falwick looked nervous as he swallowed and announced, “Witcher, you have insulted Tailles, a man of good birth. He requested a duel in the temple and you denied him. He has come to collect. You must fight.”

Geralt smirked and chuckled. “And if I say no?”

“You cannot,” Tailles insisted without giving a reason.

“Falwick,” Geralt began, purposely not addressing Tailles, “I do believe Tailles does me too much honor. I have never been knighted, and the circumstances of my birth are hardly notable. I am not sufficiently worthy of…” He glanced at the other horse. “How does one say it, Jaskier?”

Jaskier breathed in deeply and recited, “Unfit to give satisfaction and joust in the lists. The code of chivalry proclaims…”

“Our order is governed by its own code,” Falwick interrupted. “If you had challenged Tailles, he could accept or refuse at will. But since Tailles is challenging you, he has elevated you to his level temporarily. You cannot refuse, because then you would deny the dignity he is bestowing upon you.”

Jaskier’s eyes were wide and his eyebrows were practically meeting his hairline. “How logical. You are clearly a philosopher, sir.”

“And what happens if I refuse the dignity anyway?” Geralt continued.

“Then I hang you from a branch, rat-catcher,” Falwick informed him derisively, his nervousness dissipating in the wake of his anger.

“Hold on,” the dwarf interrupted. “Take it easy, all right?”

“Don’t you teach me manners, Cranmer,” Falwick hissed.

“The teaching of manners is my job,” Robin interjected coldly, lifting her hand and letting fire flare teasingly from her fingers.

“Mind your mage, witcher,” Tailles spat.

Geralt laughed loudly. “If you think I am her master, you’re dead wrong.”

“Regardless, Cranmer has direct orders from the prince,” Falwick brought them back to the point at hand.

“I know how to execute orders,” Cranmer protested. “Without your advice, Falwick. Allow me, Geralt, sir. I’m Cranmer, the Captain of the Guard.”

The witcher inclined his head politely.

“I recommend that you stand your ground with Tailles,” the dwarf told him directly. “It will be better that way. It’s not a fight to the death, after all. It only continues until one of you renders the other helpless. So fight in the field and let him render you helpless.”

Jaskier wrinkled his nose and Robin rolled her eyes as Geralt laughed once more. “I beg your pardon?” Geralt leered.

“Tailles is a favorite of the prince.” Falwick smiled spitefully. “If you touch him with your sword during the fight, you mutant, you will be punished. Captain Cranmer here will arrest you and take you to be punished, per the prince’s orders.”

Cranmer didn’t move. He just stared at Geralt. Robin focused briefly and then drew a thought out of his head that she transmitted to Geralt, though she was sure he had already guessed at it himself.

“That’s what I was thinking,” he whispered in her ear, squeezing her waist comfortingly.

He raised his voice and addressed everyone next. “If I understand correctly,” he explained, “I must fight the duel, because if I don’t, Falwick will hang me. But if I fight, I must allow my opponent to injure me, because if I wound him, I’ll be dragged to the rack. What charming alternatives. Perhaps I should save you the bother and thump my head against a tree, therefore rendering myself helpless. Would that be satisfying?”

“Don’t make fun of this,” Falwick sneered. “Don’t make your situation worse. You insulted our order.”

“By merely existing, apparently. Imagine what I could have done if I’d tried.”

“You made some very choice comments to Tailles,” Falwick reminded him. “And your mage here attacked us all.”

“So the offense is mine, it seems,” Robin declared. “Yet no one is challenging me. Tell me, Tailles, are you afraid?”

She looked directly at him and smiled wickedly. Jaskier’s eyes were bouncing between each speaking party eagerly, and she just knew he was writing a song in his head already.

“While there is great justice in defeating a mage,” Falwick responded for him, “your magic is an affront, and an obvious way to cheat, so we cannot acknowledge it. And besides, there is no victory in defeating a woman.”

“Always a good excuse, isn’t it?” Robin muttered. “Yet I see in your mind, Falwick, that both you and Tailles, not to mention most of your brethren, have defeated plenty of women in your own foul way.”

“Watch your mouth, mage, or you will join them,” Falwick threatened.

“Watch yours,” she snapped. “And be honest. Tailles wants fame, so you want him to defeat a fabled mutant fighter. Never mind that he’s just recovered from grievous injuries. You only care for your reputation and nothing else.”

“You’ve got no choice either way,” Falwick deflected, not answering her accusation.

“But I think I do,” Geralt retorted nastily.

“You do,” Cranmer affirmed, “but if you refuse, it will be bloody. Like Blaviken. Is that what you want?”

“A charming argument, Captain,” Jaskier interrupted. “You’re trying to bait a man with humanitarianism and call on his nobler feelings. You’re asking him not to spill the blood of the brigands and thugs who would attack him. And why? Because they’ve got wives? Children? Who knows, maybe they even have mothers. But I do believe your worry is premature. These knights are quaking at the very thought of fighting Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, the witcher who faced a striga with his bare hands and won. If it comes down to it, I do not believe any blood will be shed at all. Though several of them might break their legs running away.”

“I cannot speak to any of that,” Cranmer replied simply. “I am merely asking Geralt to make a decision so that I can carry out my orders either way.”

Geralt fixed his gaze on Tailles. “Give me a better reason,” he demanded.

Tailles shrugged. “Very well. No matter what you choose, Geralt of Rivia, I will imprison and torture this bard, who clearly knows intimate details of your adventures. I’m sure there are many crimes in them to be discovered. And I will take your mage for myself. She may act brave now, but she won’t be when an entire order of knights lines up to have their way with her.”

Geralt immediately swung off of Roach. Robin picked up the dropped reins as Geralt strode toward Tailles, rising to his full height once he stopped right in front of the man. “That is never going to happen,” he assured him. “She’s mine, and anyone who touches her without her permission forfeits their life. I’ll fight your damn duel.”

Geralt tugged on his belt and made the hilt of his sword jump into his hand. But as he drew it, Falwick shook his head adamantly.

“You’ll fight with my sword to make it fair.”

Geralt took the sword from Falwick and swiped it once. It was heavy. “Fair,” he huffed. “You’re funny, Falwick.”

He handed his sword to Robin. “Watch that for me, dear,” he requested, winking at her.

She shook her head at him affectionately and took it, waiting apprehensively.

She knew he could defuse this, but he would have to be precise. And she was worried about him just having recovered from his injuries. She would have liked him to have more time.

Tailles moved into a small clearing beside the road. Geralt followed. He waited, Falwick’s sword held out at his side, as Tailles folded his left arm behind his back and assumed a fencing position.

Geralt stayed still.

Suddenly, without warning, Tailles leapt and attacked.

The sword in Geralt’s hand didn’t move. He simply turned and avoided Tailles’ blade.

Tailles swept his sword through the air next. Geralt ducked underneath it, then jumped aside, throwing Tailles off his rhythm.

Tailles cursed and lost his balance for a moment, raising his sword above his head to defend himself.

Robin reached out and held Jaskier’s hand as Geralt moved quickly, hitting Tailles’ sword squarely with his own.

Tailles’ blade vibrated as it bounced back and hit the knight in the face. He howled and fell to his knees. Falwick quickly ran to his side.

Geralt drove Falwick’s sword deep into the dirt and strode back over to Roach, swinging up behind Robin and sliding his sword back into its sheath.

Falwick whirled, his cloak getting stuck across his face briefly. “Cranmer!” he shouted. “Take him!”

But the dwarf stood his ground. “No,” he said simply. “I shall execute my orders to the letter, as always. The witcher did not touch Tailles, nor did his blade. The knight hit himself with his own sword. His hard luck.”

“His face is destroyed!” Falwick screamed.

Cranmer shrugged. “He’ll heal. For a knight, a scar is a commendable reminder of fame and glory. A knight without a scar is a prick.”

Tailles was on the ground, whimpering and wailing. “My, he can make quite a ruckus, can’t he?” Jaskier observed, humming softly to himself.

The dwarf glanced up at Geralt. “Still, I’d ride out pretty quick, if I were you,” he suggested.

“I will,” Geralt agreed.

“No!” Falwick shrieked, yanking his sword from the ground with great effort. “You’ll be sorry about this, witcher!”

Geralt growled as Falwick rushed Roach. The witcher grabbed the reins and made her rear. Robin hung on tightly to her mane as her hooves kicked, bringing Falwick up short.

“What is it, Falwick?” Geralt yelled, his voice low and menacing. “I am disgusted and insulted by your attitude throughout this affair. Do you wish to duel me too? Do you consider me worthy? Or will you refuse me if I challenge you, proving that you’re not even worthy of getting kicked in the arse in front of your retinue? Be so gracious as to satisfy my curiosity.”

Falwick grew pale and stepped back, glancing over his shoulder at his knights. Most of them avoided his gaze.

Cranmer was grinning.

“Your silence speaks volumes,” Geralt sneered. “You’ve satisfied my curiosity, so now I’ll satisfy yours. If you bother Nenneke and her temple, Cranmer and his guards, or threaten my companions, especially my mage, ever again, Falwick, I will find you. And I don’t give a shit about your invented code. I’ll bleed you like a pig.”

Falwick grew even paler.

“You won’t soon forget my promise, Falwick,” Geralt finished. “Farewell.” He nodded at the dwarf. “Good luck, Cranmer.”

“Take care, Geralt,” the dwarf replied. “I’m very pleased to have met you, and I hope we meet again.”

“The feeling is quite mutual,” Geralt assured him.

Geralt turned completely and began leading Roach down the road. Jaskier followed, his fingers drumming against his thigh.

****

Geralt had insisted on returning to Nenneke to tell her of the trouble. Jaskier was currently grinning down at her, his flirtiest smile on his face.

“Thank you for the hospitality, Nenneke.” He batted his eyes at her. “Don’t be angry with me. I know that, deep down, you like me.”

“Indeed I do, you dolt,” Nenneke agreed, “though I don’t know why. Take care.”

She turned to the witcher. “Look after yourself, Geralt.”

Geralt smiled. His fingers were stroking the small of Robin’s back, and he quickly leaned around to kiss her cheek. “I prefer to look after others lately, Nenneke. It turns out better in the long run.”

“Thank you for replenishing all of my elixirs,” he added. “The ingredients are hard to come by.”

“I’m aware,” Nenneke replied blithely, coming up beside Roach and holding out her hand. “Robin.”

“Nenneke.”

Robin reached out and their fingers touched.

She inhaled sharply as she saw a vision. She was in a cave with Geralt, a dragon, and… Yennefer. Geralt’s lips were pressed desperately to Robin’s, and she was in the throes of a very different vision within this one.

The image flickered. She and Geralt stood on the edge of a mountain. There were tears running down her cheeks, and he looked heartbroken.

He opened his mouth to say something and the vision ended.

Robin swallowed and glanced at the priestess. Nenneke shrugged.

“For what it’s worth,” she told Robin, “it is not long off, and it will determine your fate and his in this world. I hope it’s what you want.”

“You can’t see if it is?” Robin asked, unable to help herself.

“Do I need to tell you what you both already know?” Nenneke countered.

Then she turned and walked serenely back into the temple.

Robin looked after her as Geralt led them out of the gate.

“What did she show you, little mage?” he wondered softly.

She shook her head. “I’ll tell you later.”

“Well,” Jaskier announced, taking a deep breath of fresh air. “This is going to make for a fabulous song. I already have half of it written in my head. What do you think?”

He hummed a little to show off the melody, then sang, “The knight parried and slashed, hoping for a streak, but when he and the witcher clashed, he hit himself in the beak.”

Robin giggled. “It’s a good work in progress, Jas.”

Geralt nodded. “I agree.”

“Excellent. I’ll compose the rest when we stop for the night.”

They rode in silence. Geralt could feel the tension in Robin’s body. Whatever Nenneke had shown her had bothered her, and he didn’t know why she wouldn’t say anything.

But he wasn’t going to push her. He’d know sooner or later, he was sure, whether she told him or they lived it.

Whatever it was, he just hoped that it wasn’t the end of everything that was dear to him.


End file.
